Page 38 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

His voice had grown in pitch and fervor, but the words made very little sense. I had the sudden realization that he did not think I would know that. Curiosity and some inborn sense of humor made me close my mouth and let him continue.

"If an alliance is forged between us, then the Minotaur will sit the Godsgrass Throne!

The penitent public would have no choice but to fall in line before a willful, right-fearing force of humble servitude.

Even you, a member of the weak-sexed, must see the way the women in your kingdom, like that proud peacock out in your hall, flaunts her body for all the castle to see, ruffling her feathers to inflame the lusts of men and turn their eyes from the Minotaur to the fleshly mountains of sin and the moist caverns of unearned tribulations!

The Minotaur teaches us that only through temptation by females does a god-fearing man's mind turn to the sodomy and vice that runs rampant across the godsgrass plains.

We must align Windemere with the Undenary and—"

I couldn't stop myself. The laugh had bubbled up in my chest when he said fleshly mountains of sin, and it burst out of me when he opened his big mouth and sucked in another lung full of air to continue his diatribe.

The prelate's attention snapped back to me from where his gaze had been fixed loftily overhead. He began to tremble as he comprehended my laughter.

Tatana squeezed my hand, trying to convey the terror she felt with only her eyes.

I gave her a reassuring look and moved in front of her protectively as the prelate took a threatening step in my direction.

My smile spread viciously. My anger had unfurled into something maniacal.

"You, Brother Vijohn, have a lot of nerve coming into my city, into my kingdom, spouting your Minotaur bullshit about women being the temptation that leads good men to rape and pillage across the world."

"It is only the truth, as the Minotaur—"

I cut him off. "The Minotaur teaches you that men are such weak-willed creatures that all it takes is a pair of tits—or gods forbid, long hair, for them to be so overcome by lust that they are no longer in control of their actions?"

"That is not...that is..." he stumbled angrily through the words. "The power of womanly vice is so great—"

"So, you admit that we are more powerful?" I demanded.

"You are a corruption!" he nearly shouted. "A festering sore of iniquity!"

"That’s really rich. The man who followed me into the long gallery to convince me to marry him, calling me a festering sore of iniquity."

Tatana tugged on my hand. "Let's go," she pleaded under her breath.

I turned to her and had a moment of regret to realize that she was truly afraid of him. That only made me angrier at this man who had no right to threaten her in my home.

I faced the prelate, whose entire head had turned red. "I would not marry something as pompous, self-righteous, and frankly, malodorous as you, even if your kingdom was not a festering sore of iniquity. Even if all other men, women, and even all of the pigs, had fallen off the face of the earth."

The prelate's face contorted. I had to admit to a dart of unease as he seemed to be contemplating striking me. The fist at his side even rose a little, as though he would.

But ultimately, he was not stupid. "You vile, hateful little harpy," he said, low and menacing.

I smiled bigger. "You ugly, weak-minded little pile of dog shit."

A laugh interrupted whatever the prelate was about to say in response. A very welcome laugh that turned that bit of unease inside me upside down, sending warmth darting through me.

The prelate whirled, seeing the Lord of Darkwatch standing in the gallery, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall.

I wondered how long he had been listening, and some self-condoning streak in me hoped it was the entire time.

"Your...Highness," the prelate stammered.

"If I was you, Kellan," Io said, pushing off the wall, "I would not linger long with my back turned to Aelia of Windemere after spouting that kind of nonsense to a queen. She has been known to carry sharp knives." He winked at me over the Prelate’s head.

My heart literally swelled in my chest at his words. I smiled my appreciation. He returned it with a grin of his own, eyes dancing with mischief.

The Prelate bowed to Io and then turned to me. He seemed to be considering bowing again, but his last shred of dignity must have won out because he whirled and stomped away, his too-short arms pumping at his sides as he strode down the long gallery.

I was halfway across the chamber by the time the doors closed behind him.

When I met Io, I fairly leapt into his arms. He caught me, laughing as I pressed my lips to his.

"Aelia!" Tatana hissed reproachfully, darting down the long hallway to guard the doors in case anyone else had the idea of following us into the gallery.

Not for the first time, I knew I had Tatana to thank for looking out for my reputation during my more reckless misadventures.

I couldn't help it as he turned, guiding me to the side, around the corner where the long gallery opened onto the central room where Albiyn's finest art was showcased. I simply couldn't keep my hands off him.

He seemed just as willing as me to lose himself in the moment as he pressed me against the wall, holding his hips against mine as he kissed me back.

"Seeing you stand up to Kellan Vijohn was the highlight of my year, Sera."

I laughed. "Standing up to that slimy weasel might be the highlight of my life," I admitted.

He looked dubious. "I very much doubt that."

Whatever else he might have said was lost in my lips pressed against his again, and my fingers roaming to his waistband.

"Here?" he asked skeptically.

"Here," I agreed, fumbling with the clasp on his breeches.

He surveyed the room.

"There's only one door," I whispered.

He looked down at me again. "Did you plan this, you wicked thing?"

I tried not to smile. "Not a plan, just a hope."

He laughed again, and I felt his fingers in my skirt, gathering the material up. When he encountered the bare flesh beneath, any hope of convincing him it had not been a plan was lost.

"How long do we have until they miss you at breakfast?" he asked, sliding his long finger through my center, making me gasp.

"Not long," I admitted. The prelate might already be spreading the tale around the dining room about my foul mouth. I didn't care. I just wanted him. I had wanted him since I left his bed.

He growled low in his throat and then dropped to his knees in front of me, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.

He pushed my skirts up, and I felt his mouth hot against my flesh.

He was always so unnaturally hot. It only added to the sensation, to the quick, hot licks of his tongue that had me squirming, panting.

"Please," I said.

"Yes, Sera?" he breathed against my skin, eyes sliding up to meet mine.

His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me forward so that he could run that very talented tongue up and down again.

"Tell me what you want, my sweet..." another flick of his tongue, "beautiful.

.." another that nearly sent me over the edge.

When he slid his finger inside me, finishing with, ".

..queen," and another slow, forceful graze of his tongue, I climaxed, shattered.

I had to bite down on my lip to stop the scream that wanted to tear free from my chest.

I heard his low, dark chuckle as he slid his finger free and stood, sliding my skirts back into place and tipping my head back to look down at me.

I stared up at him, my chest heaving and heart racing. He laid his lips to mine. "Let's go, Sera."

At my frown, he smiled. "What? Is that not what you wanted?"

"It...it wasn't all I wanted."

"Oh?" he said, brows rising. I realized he was taking a perverse pleasure in making me say it.

"You," I said. "I want...you."

"Here I am," he said with a sardonic grin.

I wanted to stomp petulantly, but my lips would not stop forming themselves into a smile. "Inside me," I said, feeling my cheeks warm.

"Ah," he said, thoughtfully. "But you are late for breakfast."

"Well, then you should hurry," I said, hooking my hand into his waistband and pulling him against me. I could feel him hard under his breeches, the rigid length of his sizable erection against me.

He laughed darkly again. "Being inside of you, Sera darling, is not something I will hurry." He kissed me tenderly and then stepped back, taking my hand and leading me across the room.

Seeing Tatana sent a wave of shame crashing over me, not for what I had done, but for the sudden fear that even across the wide room and down the length of the hall, she might have heard something.

Io dispelled any of that shame, though, by greeting her heartily. "It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady," he said, taking her hand, pointedly with the fingers that had not just been inside me.

Tatana was wary, but polite as she returned his greeting. "Likewise, Your Highness."

As he led us from the long gallery, Tatana turned to look at me. I was surprised to find a smile on her face, faint but unmistakable. She was just as charmed by him as the rest of us.

Breakfast was an exercise in patience. The Minototians were not seated at the central table, but they were near enough that I felt their eyes on me. I was certain they could see it on my face—what Io and I had done in the gallery—and they would somehow let it be known.

It was a ridiculous thought. We were alone for no more than five minutes after the prelate left. There was very little anyone could say.

The thought of how long we had been there, and the speed with which Io had been able to send me over the edge with his particularly gifted tongue, sent a jolt of heat through me.

I met his eyes down the long table where he was seated next to Master Juriae.

As though he knew precisely what I was thinking, he lifted his hand to his face, laid that finger against his lips, and inhaled.